


Take It

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Size Kink, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-10
Updated: 2010-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uhhh, did you read the title?  'Cause that's pretty much it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenteaduck](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=greenteaduck).



“Yeah, that’s it, baby, take it. Take my cock,” Chris whispers, lips smearing against the shell of Zach’s ear. Zach, who is unable to do anything _but_ take it, his face pressed into the wall and both of his wrists pinned to the wall above his head by one of Chris’ hands.

The last inch of Chris’ impressive length slides home and Zach bites down on his lower lip until he can taste blood. It’s not that he minds being fucked into a wall, it’s just that Chris had to choose _this_ wall, the only thing separating the two of them from the party in the next room. The cruel bastard knows Zach can’t keep quiet during anything remotely sexual, especially when he’s being fucked.

“Ohhhhh,” Chris breathes right into his ear, his entire body trapping Zach in suffocating heat. “Oh fuck, that’s perfect. I’m in up to my nuts.” He jiggles his hips a little until Zach makes a quiet choking sound and then he laughs. “Jesus, I bet you can feel me in the back of your throat by now.”

Ordinarily Zach would shoot back something about Chris’ severe overestimation of his own size, but Zach’s hampered by the fact that his mouth couldn’t form the words even if his brain could put them together. Also, Chris really is that fucking big, and it burns in the most delicious way.

Then Chris starts to move; slow, shallow little thrusts but what’s really making Zach squirm are his words. “Love your sweet, tight little hole around my dick. God, yeah, I’m filling you up ‘til it hurts, aren’t I? And you fucking love it.”

Zach can do little more than squeak in agreement and Chris laughs again, a little too loud. Fuck, someone could hear them – Chris shut the door but Zach can’t remember if he locked it. Anyone could come in here, see Zach with his pants down around his ankles, his asshole stretched wide around Chris’ thick, pumping cock. As if reading his mind, Chris coos, “Better stay quiet, sweetheart. Zoe told me these walls are paper thin.”

“Fucker,” Zach manages to grunt out, focusing enough strength in his arms to push his weight on to his elbows, shoving until Chris has to take a half step back, yanking Zach’s hips with him but at least some of the sweltering heat eases up and Chris has room to do more than just rock his hips.

“The _mouth_ on you,” Chris admonishes, clucking his tongue like a schoolmarm and that should _not_ be so fucking arousing. “Might just have to teach you a lesson. How ‘bout I make you scream like I did the other night? Remember that?”

Like Zach could forget being bent over the back of the couch and fucked until he shot hard all over the newly-reupholstered cushions. Though Chris had done a little screaming of his own later that night once Zach had gotten his wrists firmly secured to the headboard.

“That would get everyone’s attention. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Let everyone see what a filthy boy you are. How much you love my cock. Say it. Tell me how much you love my big, fat dick.”

“Love, I l— _nnnnnngh_ ” is as far as Zach gets, distracted as much by Chris’ deep, pounding thrusts as by the thought of everyone seeing what a filthy boy _Chris_ is. Many of them are laboring under the illusion that Chris is a delicate flower and Zach’s the kinky fucker, which… okay, that last bit is pretty accurate. But for whatever reason, during the daytime Chris can’t tell a dirty joke without blushing, but as soon as his dick comes out, he can talk filth that would make a hard-living fishwife clutch her pearls and swoon.

Zach’s arms are shaking, trying to absorb the force of a seriously punishing fuck so the rhythmic thumping doesn’t sound through the walls but Chris doesn’t seem concerned at all. “It’s okay, baby, I know. I know you wanna scream it, let everyone know how good I give it. How g— _ah_ , fuck.”

Chris must be getting close, because his voice falters and one hand drops down between Zach’s legs, groping artlessly at Zach’s aching, dripping cock until he can get his hips and his hand in synch. “Gonna make you come so fucking hard, _unnnnh_ , yeah.”

Zach whimpers and Chris butts his forehead lightly between Zach’s shoulder blades. “Oh yeah, you’re getting close, baby, I can feel it.” The hand on Zach’s cock starts to speed up and Zach feels it building, his balls tightening against his body, the sharp narrowing of everything down to Chris’ cock, Chris’ hand, Chris’ voice.

“You’re right there. Do it, Zach, let go. Fucking come for me. Right now, baby, _come_.”

Chris yanks Zach’s hips back, impaling him deep on his cock and Zach manages to stuff a hand in his mouth just before he doubles over and erupts hot and thick over Chris’ fist, which doesn’t loosen even as Chris growls and jerks and comes, buried in Zach.

Together, they slump against the wall, Chris practically wrapped around Zach. It’s hot, their shirts still on, but somewhere behind them the A/C kicks in and slowly, their breathing and heartbeats return to normal.

Chris presses a wet kiss to the side of Zach’s neck as he unwinds their limbs and slowly pulls out, meeting Zach’s groan with a lovingly whispered, “I think you got spooge on the wall.”

Zach thumps face-first into the wall, not particularly caring about the noise anymore. They’re both about to walk back out into the party, drenched with sweat and reeking of sex – now that he can engage in linear thought again, the noise is the least of their problems. “Oh, I got spooge on the wall? It’s _my_ fault?”

He can practically hear Chris shrug. “It’s your spooge.”

“Jesus,” Zach groans, spinning around, but when he does, Chris’ face is split in a wide, shit-eating grin and Zach grabs him by the shirt to pull him in for a hard, sloppy kiss. Punching him would take too much effort.


End file.
